


Miss Lister Likes Trouble

by gentlethem



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Eventual Ann(e)s, F/F, Romance, Slow Burn, not really because they really did have a thing going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-06 09:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20504579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlethem/pseuds/gentlethem
Summary: "And yet, it seemed so desperately unfair that this gorgeous creature was offering herself up to Anne, like a blossoming flower ready to be plucked, but the one woman that she truly wanted was thousands of miles away. In any other time in her life, Anne Lister would have gladly used this delightful distraction to the fullest extent, but how could she now? Now that pieces of her heart belonged to another? Like fragments of her existence pulled across a vast space, never seeming to fit back where they belong, before Miss Walker had entered her life again and thoroughly, irrevocably, unhinged her."What actually happened between Anne Lister and Sophie Ferrall on their travels and in Denmark? Anne struggles with temptation, all the while fighting her true feelings for one Miss Walker. Of course she's always alright.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I've read lots of fan fiction (oh so much fan fiction) over the years, but have never felt brave enough or inspired enough to start writing. This is my first attempt at it because this fandom has really given me so much courage and inspiration, I feel compelled to contribute. I hope you enjoy!

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Sophie’s eyes held a glint that was entirely too inviting to Anne Lister. The question hung in the air for a brief moment before Anne’s eyes darted to meet Sophie’s in equal challenge.

“I think you dress prettily.” Only a fraction of a second had passed but the look that passed Anne’s face was enough to spur Sophie on.

“Yes, but me. I’ve seen you looking at me.” Sophie kept pushing, hoping to get a rise out of Miss Lister. But Anne was ready for it this time, and she deflected the question expertly.

“I’ve seen you looking at _me_.”

Sophie’s smile broadened. “You’re very unusual to look at.”

Anne broke their gaze and smiled up at the ceiling of the carriage they were riding in. The rocking motion of the vehicle becoming a familiar sensation at this point. Miss Ferrall was not the first to find her very unusual. The way the dressed, the way she moved, her tone of voice. Just as Anne was about to formulate a response to redirect their conversation, Sophie cut right to it.

“What are you running from?”

The question gave Anne a small start. She wondered what little Miss Ferrall might have heard from others. What could she possibly have known about Anne? It also did occur to Anne that the younger woman was making an educated guess based on her unusual arrangement to travel alone. As has been said before: Ladies don’t do that.

“Why do you think I’m running away from something?” Two can play this game, Anne thought.

“A woman.” Sophie paused. Intentionally. The look of mischief bloomed in her smile again.

Anne knew what she was doing. Little Miss Ferrall was smarter than she first thought. She smiled a secret smile to herself and looked upward again.

“Of your rank.” Sophie finally continued. “Travelling alone. Is a curious thing. Has someone broken your heart?”

Ah. There it was again. For a moment Anne was quietly impressed at Miss Ferrall’s insightfulness and ability to cut through all of Anne’s bravado and bluster. There was truth to what the younger woman was saying, but Anne couldn’t acknowledge it. Not yet. Wasn’t that the whole point of this trip? It was time to move on. Forward. Away from the mess that was waiting for her in Halifax- and Scotland- if she was brave enough to admit it to herself. But she wasn’t. Not at this moment anyway.

Anne couldn’t meet Sophie’s eyes, afraid that eye contact would betray the sudden and unexpected memories that had flooded back, unbidden, at the seemingly innocent line of questioning.

“What a vivid imagination.” Anne was finally able to get out, despite the quickly darkening cloud of turmoil brewing under the surface. She willed herself to push it away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She shifted on the carriage seat and sat up straighter.

Sophie looked triumphant. “Mm. I think I’ve touched a nerve.” She was studying Miss Lister carefully.

“So. Who is… he?” There was a long pause before the last word, almost as though Sophie knew the pronoun didn’t quite fit.

Anne’s eyes flited back to where Sophie was sitting, observing her gleeful smile, a smile of her own spreading in response. If only the younger woman knew half of the things a younger Anne would have loved to do to her. And why not now? She was free, was she not? Unattached? What harm would it do, now that Miss Walker was—

“She?” Sophie ventured forward with her line of questioning.

She was brave, Anne would give her that. She had met very few women her age with quite as much wit and burning curiosity. She could see now as she shifted her gaze to stare out of the window at the passing countryside that Sophie was trying to get a reaction out of her. Anne wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so silent when little Miss Ferrall was practically throwing herself at her. Ten years ago—no, not even—three years ago—she would have gladly met the woman halfway, perhaps even pushed her farther to expedite whatever was rapidly growing between them.

The silence was broken by Sophie, this time, her voice slightly more remorseful. “I’ve offended you.”

“No, Miss Ferrall.” Anne quickly corrected her. Offended? No. Taken off guard? Perhaps. “It would take rather more than that to offend me.”

“Would it?” Sophie’s grin grew again, her eyes never breaking contact with Anne’s.

“Mm. Yes.” Anne shifted in her seat, turning her body to face Sophie head on and propping her elbows on her knees. She leaned forward and stared intently at the younger woman. She was objectively, undeniably, very pleasing to look at. Her dark hair perfectly contrasted her glowing skin, a subtle flush now apparent on her cheeks and spreading down her neck. Anne allowed her gaze to wander downwards, indulging for the briefest of moments in the beauty of the woman’s youthful physique. It would be so easy, she thought to herself, to take advantage of what was likely innocent curiosity and naive rebellion. She could already picture herself pulling young Sophie into her lap and tracing her tongue along the straining border of her neckline.

“So. I’m right then?” Sophie broke Anne’s daydream, smirking at having caught the older woman trailing her eyes down what she knew to be one of her better assets. She was very attractive, and she knew it. She lifted her chin ever so slightly upward, her chest rising invitingly, and she bit her lip as she saw the older woman fight and lose to the urge to flit her eyes downward again at her generous cleavage.

“It is a woman? That broke your heart?”

Anne moved her gaze up to meet Sophie’s eyes again, this time, slowly, and through hooded lids, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Why do you want to know?” Again, deflecting the direct question, this time, her voice dipping into a lower register, taking on a breathy quality.

Sophie seemed thrilled at finally drawing the interest of the older woman. “I have heard… _things_… about you, Miss Lister. Things about what you do in the company of other women.”

Now that it was said, Anne felt herself falter slightly. Did she want to go along with this? Little Miss Ferrall seemed willing enough. She frowned slightly and blinked away her doubts. If Miss Ferrall wanted to play with fire, then she was about to feel the heat.

“These… _things_… I do in the company of other women. Do they interest you?”

Anne’s boldness seemed to excite Sophie even more. She was trying to keep her composure, but the delight of Anne’s attention on her ignited a delicious heat deep within.

“Yes.” Sophie paused for a moment, savoring the way Miss Lister searched her face for any trace of doubt. Then, almost like a whisper, she breathed out “They interest me greatly.”

Anne opened her mouth to respond, but she was wordless for a moment. She could hardly believe her luck at finding such an eager little thing on her travels. Providence certainly did order all things nicely.

“Miss Ferrall—” she was interrupted by the sound of gravel crunching under the carriage wheels. They had arrived at Marburg, a stopover on their way to the Palace D’Hercule. The sky was darkening, and a steady drizzle had already begun to fall on the hilly lands. Their arrival seemed to snap Anne back into herself, as the reality of what was happening between her and Sophie slammed into her. Miss Ferrall was proving to be an unexpected delight, but she was past this sort of thing. She was tired of women coming into her life, stringing her along, and then leaving for the first available bachelor with a title that would deign to look their way. She was too old for this.

Anne straightened up and quickly put her hat back on. She schooled her features and smoothed her skirt, almost as if to brush off the momentary slip in judgement she was about to make moments ago. She pulled on her gloves, all while avoiding Miss Ferrall’s gaze. The carriage stopped as it pulled up to their lodgings, and Anne reached for the door handle instinctively.

Sophie sensed this sudden change in demeanor, but wasn’t going to let Anne off that easily. Feeling compelled to take bold action, she reached across the space between them and grasped Anne’s right hand resting on the door handle. Their eyes met for an electric second, Anne almost not believing the nerve of the younger woman.

“Miss Lister.” Sophie still wore her smile. “This is not over. We shall talk later.”

Anne looked at her darkly, almost to admonish her, but it came across more teasing than she intended. The heat from Miss Ferrall’s hand on hers burned through the thin leather of her gloves. In leaning forward to reach for her hand, their faces were now much closer than they’ve been before, and Anne could feel the young woman’s hot breath against her cheek.

“There is nothing to talk about.” Anne said lowly, trying to put an end to the conversation. She heard Thomas Beech’s boots hit the ground outside as the groom moved to open the carriage door.

Before either of them could say another word, Anne pushed the door open forcefully, Thomas barely getting a chance to get out of the way as Anne leaped from the carriage down onto the gravel pathway. She whirled around and extended her hand to help Sophie from the carriage, all the while looking anywhere but at the younger woman.

Sophie slipped her hand into Anne’s as she disembarked.

Anne took a deep breath. This was going to be a long trip to Denmark.

\----

The next day on route to Kassel remained uneventful, with Anne diligently avoiding any opportunity for Sophie to pursue their previous conversation further. It was just as well since travel through the mountainous region was treacherous, and the unrelenting rain made their travel even more miserable. By the time they made it to the Palace d’Hercule, Sophie was spending more and more time slumped over in her carriage seat, fast asleep, unable to resist the travel fatigue. Anne used this opportunity to write furiously in her notebook about their travels, and occasionally - though she wouldn’t readily admit it – sneak appreciative glances at the Danish beauty. She found herself wondering what could have happened between them if their previous conversation had not been cut off short. And yet, there was no point in thinking about what might have been. She was resolute in denying the younger woman’s advances towards her.

That night, after their excursions around Kassel, and feeling exhausted from their travels, they settled into a cozy little boarding house right along the Fulda river, in the northeast outskirts of the city. The place was nice enough, and Anne was grateful to have her own private room to herself, away from Sophie’s burning gaze. They shared a wall, though, and Anne could make out some banging around in the other room as Sophie paced around, her agitation evident through the stillness of the night.

Anne was just settling in to write in her diary as a particularly loud thump was heard in the other room. She could feel the old wooden floors vibrate, as though something large had been dropped unceremoniously. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and put her pen down in frustration. How could she even think through the racket? She waited a beat to see if any of the servants would come to Miss Ferrall’s aid, as was their job, but after more banging, and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor, she stood with a huff. If something needed to be done, it always fell on to her to do it. She may as well get it over with and see what Miss Ferrall needed help with. The sooner it was settled, the sooner she could get back to writing.

As Anne stepped out into the dark hallway and approached the other woman’s door, she could make out more clearly the sound of objects being riffled through, and the occasional muttered curses in Danish. Feeling the weariness of travel fray at her nerves, she swung open the door, harsh words already flying out of her mouth. “Will you please stop crashing about like a—"

She stopped short and took in the scene. The younger woman was elbow deep in one of her trunks, her black hair loose and wild from the humidity. Her cheeks were flushed and there were sparkles of tears evident in her long lashes. Sophie whipped her head up, brows furrowed in distress, and her mouth twisted in frustration. She was in the middle of a Danish expletive when Anne crashed through the door.

“What??” Sophie instinctively spat out at the intrusion.

Their eyes met and Anne’s temper reared at the intensity of Sophie’s words.

“You’re making quite the racket! What are you…?” She trailed off as she took in the mess of clothing strewn about the floor of the room. She quickly scanned Sophie and with a start, realized the state of undress of the both of them. In her agitation, she had entered her room while dressed only in her nightgown, the thin fabric blowing faintly in the breeze from the open window in the room. Sophie was equally bare, with a delicate chemise the only fabric between her and Anne’s heated gaze.

Suddenly conscious of propriety, Anne quickly turned to close the door behind her. She cleared her throat and addressed Sophie again, trying to look anywhere but her inviting figure.

“Are you alright?” She gestured toward Sophie and her things. Her shoulders sagged, the fight leaving her.

“Miss Lister.” Sophie got on her feet, dropping what looked like a blue, lacy bonnet she had picked up from her trunk. It landed quietly by her feet, seemingly forgotten. “I’m very sorry for all the noise, I was just looking for a broach that I seem to have misplaced.” She seemed bashful as she took in the mess she had made.

Sophie took in a shaky breath, tears starting to form in her eyes. The words tumbled from her mouth. “I’ve looked everywhere and I swear I brought it with me, but I can’t seem to find it! I was going to wear it tomorrow because it would go so nicely with my outfit, but—I…” She trailed off, clenching her fists by her side, trying to rein in her emotions. “It was the last thing my mother gave to me before she…” Her voice wavered, and she turned away from her, feeling foolish as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry—” Sophie started to apologize for her outburst.

“No, I’m sorry.” Anne quickly strode to the young woman and touched her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you, I was simply tired from all the travel, and you were…”

Sophie angled her face to look at Anne out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulders were still hunched, and she hugged herself tighter, gripping at her elbows as if she could hold herself back.

The moment stretched out between them, Anne calculating her next move. The scene felt strangely familiar. There was something about the younger woman, teary and desperate for reassurance that tugged at something buried in her memories.

Sophie’s ragged breathing deepened as she waited. Anne’s gaze flitted over her face - the tip of her nose was pink, her full cheeks stained with tears – and she felt something shift within her as she realized with a start what this moment reminded her of.

_Ann._

She swayed on her feet as the realization slammed into her. The delicate features. The tear-stained cheeks. The tumbling of words as their emotions took them over. It was so similar, and at the same time, so vastly different that Anne ached at the memory of the other woman.

Before she could dwell on the memories any longer, Anne wrapped her arm around Miss Ferrall, rotating her and bringing her to her chest. She gently cradled her head and rested her chin on top of her dark mane. She felt the younger woman melt into her embrace, accepting her comfort.

“Shhh…” Anne said quietly as she felt her nightgown soak with Sophie’s tears. “It’s alright. Let’s look for it together. It’s got to be here somewhere.”

Anne stepped backward and rubbed Sophie’s shoulders soothingly, the younger woman’s eyes still closed, as if still longing for the embrace.

Sophie sniffed and slowly opened her eyes, her tears clinging to her lashes like tiny sparkles in the night. “Alright.” She breathed out, looking upwards at Anne. Their faces were so close now, and Anne could feel her hot breath ghosting across her lips as she whispered the word.

Anne brought her hand up to cup the younger woman’s face, thumb running gently over her damp cheek. Sophie let out a breath and closed her eyes again, leaning into her warm hand.

It would be so easy to lean down and press her lips to her own. She certainly wanted to, and she doubted Miss Ferrall would put up the least bit resistance.

And yet, it seemed so desperately unfair that this gorgeous creature was offering herself up to Anne, like a blossoming flower ready to be plucked, but the one woman that she truly wanted was thousands of miles away. In any other time in her life, Anne Lister would have gladly used this delightful distraction to the fullest extent, but how could she now? Now that pieces of her heart belonged to another? Like fragments of her existence pulled across a vast space, never seeming to fit back where they belong, before Miss Walker had entered her life again and thoroughly, irrevocably, unhinged her.

Sophie opened her eyes slowly, not fully. “Miss Lister?” The question hung in the air, drawing Anne in. She traced her fingers lower, along the younger woman’s jaw, finally drawing across her full lower lip.

Anne’s eyes darted back up from her lips to meet Sophie’s, catching the other woman doing the same. The moment was so close, and their quick breaths mingled in the small space between them. Dare she kiss her?

No. With her mind made up, Anne quickly pulled away, leaving Sophie’s skin burning from her touch. This… flirtation had gone on long enough. Hadn’t she said she was too old for this?

Not trusting herself to do the right thing any longer, Anne took two steps back. The heat of a promised intimacy quickly dissipating, leaving coolness in its wake.

“I’ll send for Eugenie to help you. Find your broach, I mean.” Her voice shook, and she silently cursed herself for letting the moment get the better of her.

Sophie looked crestfallen. She was so sure that Miss Lister wanted her, but now, the woman could barely look in her direction. In an attempt to salvage what pride she had left, she sniffed quietly and lifted her chin.

“Yes, that would be best.” She moved away from Anne and stood by the window, looking out at the night. “Good night.”

“Yes.” Anne took in a steadying breath. “Good night, Miss Ferrall.”

She felt a pang of guilt at the hurt evident in Miss Ferrall’s voice. She glanced back at the defiant arch of the younger woman’s turned back. Moving through the room and out the door quickly, she wondered if Miss Ferrall even knew the true nature of what she had been so desperately trying to enact between them. Or was she just a sweet innocent thing that liked the thrill of the unknown?

“Do you know.” Anne briefly paused at the door, unable to stop herself while she grasped the handle. “I think you’re very brave. For sticking up for yourself. Not going along with a marriage that doesn’t suit you.”

Sophie turned to face her, hard expression slowly softening at the words.

“Thank you.”

Anne gave her a small smile, genuinely appreciating the courage it took to go against her family’s expectations. Anne knew all too well the power that family could hold over a young, unmarried woman of Miss Ferrall’s status. Anne gave her a small smile, and  
after a beat, closed the door.

She felt shaken from their near kiss and her heart ached from the memories that their encounter had stirred in her. She was going to have to put all that behind her. She had to. There was no other way forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it all the way through! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think in the comments. As I said, it's my first fic, so I'd like to know what you think. I'm planning on multiple chapters, so stay tuned and let me know suggestions on what you'd like to see in upcoming chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, and thank you for all the kind comments! Writing this has turned out to be very very fulfilling, and I can't believe what rich sources of inspiration these lovely ladies have become for me. I've had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I've had to *ahem* change ratings because of it. I hope you enjoy!

Anne Lister is dreaming, her breath coming in short gasps as her closed eyes flutter with the imagined reality currently playing out in her mind. She sees a small, diminutive figure perched on a windowsill, the light from the world beyond making the borders of her vision glow. She is moving closer to the window, the harsh light casting the figure in shadow, until she is within arms’ reach of it. Only then does the face turn to her, and she sees the striking features of Miss Sophie Ferrall smiling at her, a look of delight on the younger woman’s face.

“Miss Lister…” Dream Sophie Ferrall speaks almost too softly to be heard, but Anne hears her anyway. Sophie reaches her hand out, grasping Anne’s wrist and pulling her closer to her position by the window. She is bold, just like in real life, her delicate face wearing an inviting expression of confidence. Their bodies seem close now, and she can feel the heat of the other woman through their many layers of clothing.

Anne knows this is a dream, and that is the only reason she allows herself to indulge in the delicious curves of the younger woman’s body as she presses her hips firmly into her. A barely audible moan echoes through her fugue, and she’s not sure if the sound belongs to her or Sophie. It doesn’t really matter now, not when nimble fingers are winding through the wisps of loose hair at the base of her neck, and not when Sophie’s body pushes back into hers in involuntary response. 

Their faces are now inches apart, lips not touching, but both sharing breath in the intimate space between them. Anne brings her hand up to cup Sophie’s cheek, her wrist still captive in the younger woman’s firm grip. She traces her jawline with feather light touches, almost reenacting her actions from earlier. But this time, Anne doesn’t hold back. She gives in to what her body has been craving since this pretty young thing came into her world.

Sophie’s breath comes quicker under the seductive touch, and Anne cannot keep her eyes from trailing down the woman’s neck, where a rapid pulse is now visible under the pale skin, to the angles and curves of her delicate collarbones peeking out from a low-cut bodice. The rise and fall of her chest strain against the neckline of the fabric, and Anne finally lowers her mouth to the heated skin right above the curve of her breasts. The contact sends hot bolts of pleasure through Sophie, and she throws her head back, thumping against the windowpanes, a pained gasp echoing in Anne’s ears.

Time seems to move slower in the dream, their desire stretched across every breath, every moan, every sound of pleasure, like thick honey dripping from the fantasy of what could be. Anne lives for this. She relishes it.

She leaves wet kisses across Sophie’s chest, teasing her with a hint of teeth snagging on her skin as she drags her mouth up. Up along her neck, stopping at the impossibly soft skin between her jaw and her ear.

“_Ah!” _It’s almost as if Sophie was not expecting the sensation to feel _that _good. Anne smirked against her skin, breathing against her ear, as she lightly drags her hand from the back of her neck, down across the swell of the younger woman’s breasts over her clothes. The body under her touch seems to come alive, all at once surging forward, pushing into the palm of her hand. Sophie pants by her ear, and she feels her body heat up at the younger woman’s eagerness. Anne squeezes the sensitive flesh in response and hears a loud moan escape Sophie’s parted lips.

Almost like watching herself from afar, Anne cannot believe the vividness of the dream. She feels the string of Sophie’s moans touch something deep in her, and lets herself fall into the pleasure of the fantasy. Shifting against the younger woman, Anne slots the angle of her right hip into the space between Sophie’s legs. The heat that she can feel through their many layers of fabric makes it seem like they are melting together. It’s impossible, but Anne swears she can feel the other woman even through her many petticoats and skirts. The dream sharpens as she pushes her hip into Sophie’s core, and she burns when the moans come out louder. 

They’re rutting into each other now, neither of them sure how so much pleasure could be had from such simple actions. There’s only hands - gripping, bodies – moving, breathing into each other’s mouths. Together, they make a symphony of gasps that seem to expand and fill the secret corners of the dreamscape.

Anne pulls back to look at Dream Sophie, eyes clenched shut in concentration, her dark lashes contrasting the flush in her cheeks and her pink lips parted in ecstasy. They haven’t even kissed, and yet it seemed like Anne’s insistent movement against Sophie’s core would make her combust. Heat rolled off her glowing skin, a sheen of sweat visible in the too-bright light of the window. Anne could somehow smell the sharp tang of Sophie’s arousal through their clothes. She was undoubtedly soaked where Anne’s hip rubbed against the space between her legs, her wetness increasing the delicious friction between her drawers and the core of her desire. It was too much, and Sophie finally opens her eyes, asking for more. She is thoroughly debauched, tendrils of hair coming loose from her bun. She pleads. 

_“Shall we go upstairs?” _

The words are spoken too loud in the dream, like there is an echo of another voice in unison. Pain suddenly blooms in Anne’s chest and the moment seems to shrink to a point.

Anne sits up in bed, forehead drenched in sweat, her racing heart making a pounding in her ears. The words resound again and again in her head, and she feels the tendrils of the dream retract too quickly from her mind, like surfacing from water too quickly. She’s momentarily disoriented, but then she collapses back into bed, unwelcome tears starting to escape the corner of her eyes. Why can’t she forget Miss Walker? Is she doomed to see her in every moment? Waking _and _asleep?

She grits her teeth as she feels herself pulse with desire, her body still responding to the traces of the dream. She feels herself clench at the memory of Miss Ferrall- so eager, so responsive to her touch. Anne’s fingers find their way under her nightgown, and she’s not surprised to find herself drenched and quivering in arousal. She’s momentarily torn about what she’s about to do, but decides that there’s no point in denying herself this small pleasure. What could it hurt to satisfy the burning urge in the privacy of her own bed? Miss Ferrall need not know any better, and maybe she can get the infernal girl out of her system once and for all.

_Yes. _Anne dipped a single finger into her wetness. She marveled at how slick and ready she was already, her digits sliding back and forth over the hard bundle of nerves. Each swipe of the swollen nub sent jolts of pleasure shooting up her spine. She allowed her mind to conjure up the image of Miss Ferrall, chin lifted, slender neck exposed and chest rising and falling rapidly with loud pants coming from her parted mouth. She recalled how inviting the swell of her breasts were as she dragged her mouth across the expanse of her exposed flesh. If only she knew how temping she was in her too-tight bodice and pretty little dresses.

Anne felt a deep tugging in her abdomen at the imagery, her fingers moving faster over her clit. She bit her lip in an attempt to quiet her panting. She imagined what it would be like to lay young Miss Ferrall out on her bed. She would lift her skits and petticoats and kiss the secret treasures of her skin, up and down her legs, working her up to the point where she would lift her hips up in need. Maybe lovely little Sophie would not even know what her body was craving, but she would allow Anne to slide up her length and kiss her roughly, pressing her down into the bed while her hand would tease the opening of her drawers. Then she would slide past the fabric and finally touch her fingers to the skin of her queer, wet and hot with arousal.

Her hand was moving fast now, the thought of touching the young woman in her most secret area making her clench hard in desire. She brought her fingers down to her opening and felt herself get even wetter in anticipation.

Suddenly, the image in her mind shifted. Instead of Sophie’s dark and inviting eyes, it was bright blue orbs that stared up at her, desire swimming in their depths. Instead of rolling locks of black hair spread on the bed in front of her, it was angelic waves of gold, glowing in the sunlight. The woman in her vision gasped at the intrusion as two long digits entered her, firmly and up to their knuckles, into her wet and waiting core. Anne mimicked the motion with her own hand, too far gone to resist the pull of the fantasy any longer. In her mind, she could see so clearly Ann Walker’s flushed face as she entered her again and again, delightful little moans making their way out of her delicate pink lips. The pleasure of the moment was almost too much for Anne to bear, overcome by the sensation of her walls clinging to her fingers as she thrust in and out of tight wetness, feeling as if she was thrusting inside Miss Walker herself. The line between reality and fantasy blurred, and Anne was transported back their first time in Ann Walker’s bedroom. Just as she did that day when she finally took Ann Walker for herself, she clenched her eyes shut and savored the moment, the intensity of her feelings surprising her, threatening to bubble to the surface. What this delightful little thing did to her!

Anne could not believe how close she was. Her brows furrowed in concentration and she could hear echoes of Ann Walker’s delicious gasps, pants, and moans like she was right there, squirming under her, taking pleasure like she never experienced before. The girl was always so expressive and generous with her sounds of pleasure. She thought back to the way Miss Walker’s core twitched and groped at her fingers as she entered her, her own queer contracting in response. She could always tell how close Ann was by how tightly her cunt would grip and clench around her digits, and how she would eagerly lift her hips up to meet her thrusts.

Almost there now. Anne could feel the low curling of pleasure in her belly. There was no stopping the images as they raced through her mind: Miss Walker’s hands gripping her shoulders as she moved between her legs. The pink lips of her cunt stretching over her fingers, hot wetness enveloping her as she entered Miss Walker for the first time. Slender legs trembling with the exertion of holding her hips off the bed while Anne moved her body in time with her thrusts, entering her deeper and deeper with each stroke. She was positively soaked now, the memories so vivid and powerful. She could hear how wet she was as her fingers pumped in and out, chasing her release.

With stunning clarity, one particular memory rose out of the depths. Ann, with her mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes shooting open to meet Anne’s, as she reached the first waves of her climax. Anne remembers the tensing of her hips and the delicious sensation of Ann’s queer clenching rhythmically around her fingers as she brought her over the edge. And yet, it was the look of pure wonder and adoration crossing over Ann’s face that eclipsed all other sensations. With that powerful memory, Anne crashed over her peak, a startlingly loud groan escaping her mouth as she moved her hand erratically, overcome with sudden emotion. She could feel more wetness pool around her fingers, and she clenched hard around them as she rode the last waves of her pleasure.

Finally spent, she withdrew her soaked fingers and wiped them carelessly on the bedsheets. She let out a deep breath as the tension left her body and she sagged into the bed. At once, she felt the coolness of the night air against her damp forehead, traces of her exertion evident in the rapid beating of her heart and trembling of her limbs. Faint spasms of arousal faded away as she stared up, unblinking, at the ceiling of her room. Anne was stunned by the intensity of her orgasm and worked to wrap her mind around the meaning of it. She felt a pit growing in her stomach as she thought back to the vivid memories she had used for her pleasure. She had worked so hard to cast Miss Walker from her mind. Nothing good could come from pining over the woman- she was lost to her now. And yet… it appeared that her body would not listen. 

Anne growled as she turned over to settle on her side. She curled into bed and clenched into the bedsheet with her fists. She was a fool for thinking she could get over Ann Walker quite so easily. It had seemed like Sophie Ferrall would be a good distraction in the moment, but thoughts of her only seemed lead back to the other woman. How inexplicably vexing! 

Anne’s breathing steadied even as her mind whirled with thoughts, each competing for attention and dominance, creating churning currents of anger, frustration, and disappointment. Sleep quickly overtook her, body spent from the release. Thankfully, no more dreams came in the night, though it was a restless sleep.

* * *

Their days of travel pass in relative peace as they work their way north through Germany, passing through quaint little towns between the busy cities of Hanover and Hamburg. Small inns and farms dot the countryside, and cloudy skies fade away to sun-lit hills and fields. It seems that a strange truce has been met between the two women, neither of them bringing up the night they almost kissed. To Anne, Sophie seemed softer, less challenging, although a quiet curiosity always burned beneath the steady questions asked during their time in the carriage. For the most part, Anne welcomed the easy conversation between them, happy to entertain the innocent girl with stories of her past travels, life in Halifax, and bits of interesting medical knowledge she’s picked up from her time with brilliant medical men. Anne finds it’s easy to enthrall Sophie with the details, but they feel like they come from a lifetime ago. They now belong to a different person- a person that no longer exists, changed by all the heartache and disappointment of the last few months.

On the third day after passing through the moors of the Lüneburg Heath, Anne catches Sophie eyeing the unique landscape formed by the low-growing shrubs and stout vegetation along the heathland. Gentle sandy hills give way to slow-flowing streams, the colors and textures of the landscape striking an unusual contrast.

“Are you intrigued?” Anne is again sitting sideways in the carriage, legs propped up on the seat next to her. She’s looking at Miss Ferrall out of the corner of her eye, a content smile on her face. 

“Mm. Yes” Sophie keeps studying the strange landscape, but now a soft smile grows on her face. “It’s so unusual, Miss Lister. I don’t think I’ve come through this part of Germany before.”

“Ah yes.” Anne nods. “It’s slower, but I wouldn’t miss the chance to see the heathland.”

“The… heathland?” Sophie is puzzled, turning over the strange word in her mouth.

“Yes. You see those pink flowers?” Anne leans forward, sparkle in her eye, as she points out the carriage window. “Those, over there, growing low to the ground--”

Sophie’s smile broadens, eyes catching the bright color of the flowering spikes. “Oh yes! They’re so pretty!”

“That’s Heather. They grow abundantly in this area, because of the acidic soil and how much sun they get around here. That’s where the name _heath_land comes from.” She gestures wide with her hands, emphasizing her point.

“Oh there’s so much of it!” Sophie is pressed against the glass of the window.

“Well enjoy it now, because these lands are shrinking and slowly disappearing.” She’s dispassionate about it.

“No!” The younger woman seemed to deflate against the glass. She looked back at Anne. “Why?”

“I’m not quite sure.” Anne shrugged. “I read about in a book I have back at Shibden. It was a book on Botany. I was looking for hardy plants for the new garden I was planning on the south lawn, but Heather won’t do well because it’s not suited to our soil and climate.”

“How fascinating, Miss Lister!” Sophie seemed tickled by Anne’s brief exposition on botany. “Oh, how much you must read to know so many interesting facts.”

“Mm. Well.” Anne raised her chin slightly, flattered at the complement. “We must constantly seek to better ourselves, mustn’t we?”

“I don’t think I’ve met a woman so…” Sophie searched for the right word. “Interesting and clever as you.”

Anne let out a quiet chuckle. “You’re not so bad yourself, Miss Ferrall.”

Sophie paused for a moment, turning over the idea in her head. She cast her eyes downward, then met Anne’s gaze, a look for sadness passing over her delicate features.

“If only that were enough.” She sighed wistfully. “Of course, I must… _marry... b_efore I am considered complete.” She said darkly, bitterness evident in her voice.

Anne swallowed hard and tried to lighten the mood. “And what’s wrong with that? Surely the stability and security of marriage, especially with someone who has two thousand pounds a year, would make you more settled?” 

An ironic laugh made its way past the younger woman’s lips. “Yes, well, that’s what everyone’s been saying. But how can I marry someone I don’t love?" Sophie cast her eyes past the carriage window, lost in her thoughts. "What's the point in that?” 

“Miss Ferrall.” Anne turned in her seat to face her, gazes locking with one another again. “You are young. What do you know of love? How do you know you won’t come to love this suitor?”

“I just know.” Sophie was indignant. “Don’t you just… _know_?”

It was Anne’s turn to chuckle. “It’s not that simple.” She said smugly. Oh how naïve this pretty little thing was turning out to be beneath all her charm and confidence. “Sometimes, things can start out that way.” She gestured toward Sophie. “But then… things change. Feelings evolve.” Anne could feel the familiarity of the words burn through her, but she quickly tamped down the feelings.

“Well then, what _is _love?” Sophie challenged, her voice rising. Despite Anne’s attempt at lightening the mood, she could sense that the woman was rearing for a fight.

“What do you think it is?” Anne deflected, hoping to put an end to this line of questioning.

“It’s…” Sophie trailed off, eyes seeming to search for answers on the floor of the carriage. She seemed to deflate in her seat after a few moments. Anne was almost satisfied that the conversation was over, when, like a light suddenly coming on, she sat up and met Anne’s questioning gaze, fire in her eyes.

“It’s when you feel your heart race.” She brought her hand up to her chest. “When you can’t quite seem to catch your breath around the other person.”

Anne was taken aback by Sophie’s boldness, yet again. She felt her pounding heart betray her calmness.

“It’s when you can’t stop thinking about them. When you crave their touch.” From where her open palm rested against her chest, Anne’s eyes followed her hand as it trailed down her body, as if to emphasize her point. There was no stopping Sophie now. She seemed to have come alive at the concept. Sophie’s eyes were wild with passion and desire, and Anne couldn’t help but appreciate the stunning beauty before her. The stirrings of arousal rose at the sight of Sophie’s chest rising and falling with her deep breaths, mirroring the memory of the fantasy she had so carefully locked away these past few days. She really was turning out to be a delectable little delight, so easily gotten, if she had the heart for it.

Sophie continued, carried away in the moment, propelled by the effect she was having on Miss Lister. Her eyes gleamed with the anticipation of what she was about to say next.

“It’s when you think you’ll die if they don’t kiss you.” She ended in a whisper, eyes sliding down to look at Anne’s lips, then back up again. Anne burned with unexpected desire, deciding to take the challenge.

“That’s not love, Miss Ferrall.” Anne’s voice dropped to a dangerous tone, the gravelly quality exciting the younger woman beyond words.

“That’s lust.” A slow smile spread across Anne’s face, eyes glinting at the boldness of the statement.

She was sure that would stun Sophie into silence. Which it did. But it did nothing to quell the unmistakable burning she felt shoot down her body and settle between her legs for the rest of the ride to Hamburg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I welcome any feedback and suggestions. I had only planned on writing 2 chapters when I started out, but I think it's gotten away from me a little bit. :) It's much too fun to draw it out between these two, so I'm planning more chapters, of an indeterminate amount, to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it is: the namesake chapter. Miss Lister has a... complicated... relationship with trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! There's been this troublesome thing called work that has kept this chapter burning a hole on my hard drive. I hope the wait has been worth it! :) Enjoy!

It promises to take the better part of a day to get from Hamburg to the quiet seaport town of Travemünde, where the travelers board a large steel steamship to cross the Baltic Sea, on their way to Copenhagen. It’s not exactly luxury aboard the ship, but Anne is grateful that the voyage will be a short one, thanks to the hulking 80-horsepower engine the modern vessel comes equipped with. Anne remembers watching the creaking and swaying of the mighty crane loading their carriage with slight trepidation, but the excitement of their journey eclipsed any doubt she had. She soon found herself fully immersed in a highly technical conversation about the new steamship with a fellow passenger in the upper-level dining room.

She’s halfway through explaining to him just exactly _why _it made perfect sense to load the ship’s cargo first, and only _then_the lower-level passengers, when she sees Miss Ferrall emerge from the private quarters and make her way into the dining room. Unlike Anne, the younger woman had taken the trouble to freshen up and change her clothes for their journey aboard the ship, and she certainly looked rather attractive in an emerald green velvet gown, complete with sumptuous mink fur bell-sleeves. It takes her a moment to recover from the distraction, but she manages to tear her eyes away from the delightful view to finish making her point.

“Yes, Mr. Meier, I know it’s not exactly comfortable,” Anne turns more fully to regard the gentleman. “But it’s a more efficient use of space to let the passengers fill in the gaps between the cargo once it’s on board.”

Mr. Meier, a distinguished gentleman of about fifty-years of age, who shared her keen interest in the new steamships operational across the continent, was delighted to be part of such engaging discussion, especially with someone as unusual as Miss Lister.

“But surely you must feel concern over the conditions?” He argued back good-naturedly. “People have to ride alongside livestock. Some are even crammed in next to hot boilers the whole trip!”

“Well then, that’s entirely their choice to make.” She said dismissively with a wave of her hand. “They could just as easily purchase an upper-level ticket and ride up here, amongst us, without any fear of _animals _or _boilers_.”

The gentleman let out a hearty laugh, his cheeks growing pinker with the help of his third glass of wine. “Miss Lister! Not everyone has the privilege to enjoy comforts such as you or I!”

Anne raised her glass to his, a gleeful conspiratorial look on her face. “Aren’t we lucky!”

The clink of their glasses rose above the low din of conversation and the steady hum of the ship’s engine. Anne swung back the remaining liquid in her glass, letting the wine warm its way down her throat and into her belly.

Seeing that his glass was now empty too, Mr. Meier got up from the small table they were seated at. “You’ll excuse me. I’m out of wine!" 

“Of course.” She was already looking back to Sophie, the younger woman perched at another table, nervously picking at her clothes, eyes darting about. Anne made her way over to her table, smile broadening when their eyes met.

“Miss Ferrall, you look very nice.” She sat in the empty chair next to her. There was another perfectly good chair opposite Sophie, but Anne was feeling a new sort of courage, fueled by her drink. She leaned back and studied Sophie, with her head cocked to the side, an appreciative look on her face.

Sophie hesitated for a moment, taken aback by Miss Lister’s sudden boldness. Then, as if remembering herself, she responded. “Thank you Miss Lister. I feel much better after changing." 

Anne’s eyes crinkled in a slight frown. “Why? Were you not feeling well, Miss Ferrall?”

Sophie shrugged. “It’s the air on this boat… it’s so…” She trailed of.

“Stifling?” Anne supplied. 

“Mm. Yes.” The younger woman agreed, bringing her hands to her abdomen, as if she was remembering the sick sensation. “I’ll be relieved when we’re back on solid ground again.”

“It won’t be long.” Anne cast her eyes about the room. “These new ships have quite the powerful engines. I anticipate we’ll arrive by one o’clock tomorrow afternoon at the latest." 

Sophie sighed in her seat. “I suppose that’s not too bad, though I must admit I’m getting rather tired of all this travel.”

Anne sat forward in her chair slightly, eyes twinkling with a smile. “Cheer up, Miss Ferrall. Travel is good for the soul.” She gestured broadly with both hands. “Aren’t you excited to see so many new things? To meet so many new people?"

Sophie gave her a half-hearted laugh. “Oh, Miss Lister, if only all of us shared your enthusiasm for travelling! Don’t you ever get tired of how tedious it all is?" 

“Tedious?” There was laughter in Anne’s eyes. “Quite the opposite! I find it gives me energy!”

“Of course it does!” Sophie’s smile broadened. “You’re so full of life. So intriguing and interesting. It’s a wonder that you manage to sit still at all!” 

They shared a hearty laugh, each of them amused by the other. Ever so slightly, their bodies had moved closer together, until they were sitting almost pressed together at the shoulder, Anne’s body angled sideways toward Miss Ferrall who had her hands in her lap under the table, absentmindedly picking at the threads of her sleeve.

Quietly, in a reflective tone, Anne uttered in a sigh. “I do wish I could travel more. But my aunt - her health is not what it used to be, and then there’s Shibden. There’s always so much to do around the estate.”

Sophie gave her words serious thought, almost as if she were trying to solve the puzzle in her head. “That is a shame. But maybe it’s for the best? It’s such trouble to arrange for travel, and it surely is nice to be around family. I certainly miss my sister.”

Their eyes met as Anne looked back up from her thoughts.

“Maybe I like the trouble, Miss Ferrall.” As soon she said the words, spoken casually, she realized how they sounded. Her eyes widened at the insinuation, and she opened her mouth to clarify, but was stopped short by what Miss Ferrall did next.

She felt movement under the table, and the next moment, Sophie’s hand had crossed the small space between their bodies, and she brushed the back of her middle finger along the length of Anne’s hand, stopping at the junction of her wrist. The younger woman leaned in closer, like she was telling the Anne a secret.

“I know you do, Miss Lister.” Her words were like a whisper, her breath fluttering against Anne’s ear and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in delicious anticipation. 

The sound of faint conversation and laughter seemed to drain from the room as she realized just how close they were sitting to one another. For a moment, she admired the way that the dim candlelight around the dining room cast fickle shadows on the younger girl’s delicate features. She was suddenly aware of the heat of the other woman through their clothes and took in a sharp intake of breath.

Her eyes darted down to where their hands were obscured by the surface of the table, then back up again at Sophie who was looking at her like she wanted to devour her. She could hardly believe that the girl would be so bold with her, in the middle of the very public dining room. Her finger was now stroking maddening circles on the back of her hand, the feather light touch burning her skin. The risk of getting caught was thrilling, and Anne briefly savored how freely Miss Ferrall offered herself up to her, the temptation proving to be excruciatingly intoxicating. And yet, Anne knew better. It was no more than a silly little crush, born out of innocent curiosity, unlikely to lead anywhere. It would be best to just end things now, before either one of them got too deep. Yes, this is what she told herself as she leaned back, reluctantly pulling her hand away from Sophie’s under the table.

Anne gave her a reproachful look. “You need to stop this, Miss Ferrall.”

Sophie’s face fell, the hurt evident in her eyes as Anne rejected her once again. She thought she had finally managed to make it through to Miss Lister, but the older woman kept evading her advances. Unwelcome tears began to burn in her eyes as Anne continued to speak.

“You are a very sweet, kind, young woman, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Anne’s voice was steady, she wouldn’t—_couldn’t _– let the younger woman see how much she had affected her.

Her steadiness made an unexpected fury rise in Miss Ferrall’s chest, and her eyes narrowed into slits. Just when it seemed like Sophie was about to bite back with something sharp, a loud scraping of wood against the floors broke the moment, the two women practically jumping in their seats at the sudden intrusion.

“Miss Lister!” Mr. Meier was back at it, wine sloshing in his glass as he sat across them, completely oblivious to the heated exchange that he had nearly interrupted.

Anne recovered masterfully, turning to face the man as if she was fully expecting his company.

“Mr. Meier! How good of you to join us!” Anne said cheerfully. She snuck a quick look at Miss Ferrall out of the corner of her eye and saw the poor girl’s face burning red with frustration, her breaths coming out in quick short breaths. “This is Miss Sophie Ferrall. I am accompanying her to Denmark. Her sister is the Countess Blücher. Maybe you have heard of her?”

“How do you do, Miss Ferrall?” He gave her a friendly smile despite her sullen expression.

“I’m…” Sophie paused for a moment, still working through the last few minutes.

Miss Ferrall stood up suddenly. “Excuse me… I’m not feeling very well.”

Anne leapt to her feet to follow her. “Miss Ferrall? Are you alright?” She grasped her elbows to steady her. 

Sophie’s chin jutted out in defiance, and she would not meet her eyes. “I think I’ll be better in my room.”

“Are you sure?” Anne tried to get a better look at her face, but Sophie had already wrenched herself away from Anne’s hold.

“Yes, I’d like to be alone, please. If you don’t mind.” She managed to blurt out, the words coming out sharper than she intended. Before Anne could offer any more help, Miss Ferrall had made her way across the dining room, escaping into the dark corridor of the ship.

Anne was torn between following Sophie to see if she was alright and respecting her wishes. Clearly something that passed between them, and perhaps it would be best to give her some space for now.

“It’s a real pity.” Mr. Meier mused as Anne stood there, stunned at what had just happened. “Some people just do not take to ships very well at all.”

“Mm.” Anne said absently, looking back at him. She may as well distract herself with conversation in the meantime. She sat back down, resigning herself to the long journey ahead, made even longer now by Sophie’s absence.

*******

Anne tried not to dwell on it, but she was quietly hurt when she didn’t see Sophie until they were about to disembark the ship the next day. She could understand the sting of rejection, but she kept telling herself it was for the girl’s own good. After all, what could innocent little Miss Ferrall know about what she was getting into? It would just lead to disappointment and heartache if she let the younger woman sweep her up with her flirtations and suggestive little remarks.

Lashing rain and choppy waves greeted them in Copenhagen, and Sophie barely spoke to her as they greeted Lady Harriet De Hagemann and Mr. De Hagemann. Their eyes did meet for the briefest of moments when she disembarked the carriage at Blancogarde. Promises were made to show her around Copenhagen, but Anne silently resolved to endeavor to see Miss Ferrall as little as possible during her time in the city.

It was easy to get swept away by the thrill of having finally arrived in Denmark, and Anne was pleasantly surprised at how luxurious her dwellings were at the Hotel Royale. It wasn’t until the painful absence of any news about Miss Walker that Anne felt her bubble start to burst. The sudden ache in her chest took her by surprise, and Anne silently cursed at herself for her sentimentality. They said they wouldn’t write to one another, didn’t they? They had agreed before they left. And yet, she had let her hope get the better of her.

“Would you like to come to dine with us, Miss Lister?” Lady De Hagemann’s voice seemed far away, like she was speaking to her through a tunnel. “Perhaps one day next week. We can introduce you to people.”

Her shoulders sloped in defeat, but she managed a small smile. “Thank you.” She heard herself say, but she could feel herself sinking into despair. She had tried to keep her thoughts from wandering to Miss Walker, but she could feel herself slipping despite her best efforts.

So she launched herself into days filled with activity and distractions. There were numberless excursions to visit grand palaces and botanical gardens, and the seemingly endless dinner after dinner occupied her evenings, delighted to be meeting new acquaintances. Anne spent every waking moment of the next week preoccupying herself with what Copenhagen had to offer, and when she wasn’t looking at magnificent sights, she was writing about her activities in her diaries and in letters to her Aunt.

The week passed quickly, and before she knew it, she found herself at the De Hagemann’s fashionable river-front Ameliagardge residence for the much-awaited dinner where she would be introduced to their aristocratic friends. Anne had been looking forward to the night, eager to rub elbows with a higher society, but she had underestimated the effect that seeing Miss Ferrall would have on her again.

Their week apart had apparently done the younger woman a power of good. Her cheeks were once again glowing, and she kept sneaking cheeky little glances at Anne, trying to catch her eyes. She was dressed in an absolutely divine crimson evening gown, cut to accentuate her curves in just the right way. It was certainly doing the job, Anne thought darkly, as she found her eyes slipping off to the left where Miss Ferrall was awaiting her appreciative gaze. The younger woman looked so at home amidst the grandeur of their surroundings- a sharp contrast with Anne who always found herself feeling rather uncomfortable in her low-cut black evening gown.

She was momentarily distracted from her discomfort by the look that Sophie was giving her now from across the table. She felt her breath stop in her throat as she watched the younger woman slowly bring a small morsel of food to her mouth, her pink lips suggestively wrapping themselves around the fork as she pulled it from her mouth. Sophie’s eyes never left hers, a look of amusement on her face as she watched Anne swallow hard in response. The whole display would almost be ridiculous if it were not for the effect it was having on Anne.

Oblivious to the entire exchange, the other dinner guests were eager to get to know Miss Lister a little better, obviously intrigued by her curious character.

“Tell us about your journey from Halifax, Miss Lister.” Madame De Hage, a lively older woman pulled Anne’s gaze from Miss Ferrall. 

“Oh?” Anne felt momentarily stunned, trying to bring herself back to the conversation.

“Yes, Sophie says you stopped in the Lüneburg Heath on your way through Germany? It must have been a very long journey for you.”

“Ah yes.” Anne gave her a friendly smile waving off her concern. “I’m used to it. In fact, I really enjoy it.”

“Do you?” Madame De Hage seemed genuinely interested in her. “Do you travel a lot, Miss Lister?”

“Mm. When I can.” Anne was still feeling flustered by the grand setting and equally impressive guests. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been this far from home though.”

“We’re so grateful to you Miss Lister! “The Countess Blücher leaned in across the table, giving her a warm smile.

“Taking the trouble to bring my sister all this way.” Miss Ferrall’s older sister was an attractive woman with blonde curls framing her face, her delicate features bearing a strong resemblance to the younger woman. Anne noticed how a regal sort of beauty apparently ran in the family.

“Oh!” Anne threw her hands up, again trying to wave of the concern. It was nothing.

Not missing a beat, Sophie chimed in. “Miss Lister _likes _trouble.” She brought her wine goblet to her lips, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she let that sink in.

The double meaning was not lost on Anne, and she gave Miss Ferrall a reproachful look, the whole exchange suddenly feeling very familiar. Would this flirtation never stop? What sweet torture it was to have this beautiful woman tease her to the point of insanity.

“And everyone says you’re staying in Copenhagen through the winter, Miss Lister?” She heard the Count Blücher say.

If Anne was slightly flustered before, now she was positively rattled, not quite sure what to do with her hands. Sophie was still looking at her over the lip of her goblet, a satisfied smirk on her beautiful face. 

“Oh well then you need to be presented at court!” Madame De Hage joined back in the conversation.

“Really?” Things were moving quickly, but not in an unwelcome direction for Anne. Presented at court? To the Queen of Denmark? This was what she lived for! 

“Yes, it’s no good being here all winter if you haven’t been presented at court, not if you want to make friends and have any sort of social life!” The Countess seemed smitten with Anne, eager to please. “You can sort that out, de Hagemann, surely?”

And so the night progressed in much the same way, Anne sharing her plans for the winter, and the guests offering to help her in any way that they could. It seemed that they could not do enough for her, and she was enamored by their kindness and eagerness to please.

When dinner was finally over, they were ushered into the drawing room, where the guests perched on fine armchairs and silken pillows, small clusters of conversation already forming throughout the space. Anne was being shown into the adjoining library, where Mr. De Hagemann was sharing with her several volumes of texts that they had talked about over dinner.

“This one here is an excellent treatise on the Thirty Years War.” He handed her a thick leather-bound book, showing clear signs of use. “I find myself returning back to it, time and time again. It is a classic.”

“Thank you.” Anne was flattered by his generosity.

“Now this one…” Mr. De Hagemann pulled out a lighter but more ornately bound green leather book. “It’s a rather interesting book about the idea of a ‘Neutral State’. Quite a radical concept, but such a fascinating read.”

She stacked up the books in her arms, looking around and admiring the grand room. The library was truly breathtaking, bookcases spanning every vertical surface, floor to ceiling lined with a staggering number of volumes. One could easily spend a whole year amongst the books and only have consumed a fraction of their knowledge. Mr. De Hagemann must have noticed how awed she was by the library because he stopped reaching for another volume, and instead affectionately rested his hand on her arm.

“Why don’t I let you look around for a little bit, Miss Lister?” He said kindly. “Then you can come to me with a list of books you’d like to borrow while you’re in Copenhagen. I can have my man bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Ah!” Anne was once again taken off guard by his generosity. “That would be wonderful, Mr. De Hagemann.”

“It’s really no problem at all. Take your time.” He started to move towards the door, and then paused in the doorway. “It really is quite a treat to have you here with us, Miss Lister.”

Such a warm smile, such kind people. Anne felt her heart fill with gratitude and thanked him. A low aching feeling of longing followed Mr. De Hagemann’s departure. The sweetness of the company only seemed to amplify a small bitterness that she’d been trying to press down since she’d arrived in Copenhagen. Yes, she missed her Aunt, and sometimes she’d even admit to missing shabby little Shibden, and her shabby little family. And yet, if she was being honest with herself, there was also a quiet little pain that had taken root in her soul, gaining strength with every day that she had traveled farther from one Miss Walker. If she did enough, read enough, moved quickly enough through her day, the pain seemed to shrink to a manageable size, like a shadow hiding under the bed, receding far enough to be ignored for now. But the raw kindness she had experienced while in Copenhagen had somehow managed to create a space for it to venture out, its wandering tendrils threatening to drag Anne down with them.

Anne blinked away at the hot tears that had unexpectedly started to burn in her eyes, overwhelmed by her thoughts. She gritted her teeth and willed herself back into the present. She would overcome this. Just like everything else she’d overcome in her life. This would be no different.

Taking a deep breath, Anne wandered her eyes over the wall of books again, their rich leather spines beckoning her with their secret knowledge, promising to give her an escape from reality. Just as she was about to reach for one particularly large and ancient looking volume, she heard the door snick open behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, having picked up on the delicious scent of perfume she was already familiar with.

“Miss Lister.” Came the sweet voice. Anne turned around, already prepared with a half-decent excuse to leave the library, but she stopped short at the telltale sound of a lock clicking into place, shutting out the rest of the world. Sophie was practically vibrating, her cheeks were flushed from the effects of the wine, and she was glowing with anticipation. They were alone. Finally.

“What are you—” Anne was frowning in confusion. She had been diligent in keeping her distance, careful to not encourage her.

Sophie seemed gleeful, a dangerous spark in her eyes. “Why have you avoided me all week?”

“I haven’t—” Anne’s eyes snapped to the locked door, calculating her next move. Sophie was slowly making her way across the room, her body swaying softly as she neared the other woman.

“Don’t you miss me?” Sophie clasped her hands in front of her body, the movement pushing her breasts together suggestively, the mounding flesh rising over her dress. She moved forward but she stopped short of completely stepping into Anne’s personal space. Anne instinctively took a step back but was met with the hard wood of the bookshelves pressing into her. That seemed to snap her out of it. The situation was escalating quickly.

“What are you doing, Miss Ferrall…” There was a low growl of warning to her voice that only seemed to excite Sophie even more.

“Only what you’ve been wanting to do…Since the day we met.” Sophie took a step closer, thrilling at how Anne’s eyes darted down to her generous cleavage on display over the low neckline of her dress.

“Miss Ferrall…” Anne repeated, the palms of her hands pressed backwards into the books, as if trying to find an escape.

“Do you deny it?” Sophie tried to be cheeky, but there was a seriousness to the way she eyed the other woman, an insecurity lingering on her face. She bit her lower lip and looked up at Anne through her lashes, a questioning look on her face. 

Anne felt a low tugging in her abdomen at the sight. There was something about this girl that made her carnal desires burn with an intensity she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was almost as if Sophie read her mind, because her smile widened and she leaned in closer, her skirts brushing against Anne’s gown.

“I see the way you look at me, Miss Lister…”

Their faces were only inches apart. Their eyes locked with intensity, and the moment stood still while they sized each other up. Anne was painfully aware of how trapped she felt between the younger woman’s body and the hard surface of wood and leather behind her. Maybe it was the unusual sensation of being so bare at the shoulders, or maybe it was the hot little puffs of air blowing across her neck from where Sophie was breathing hard, but Anne felt oddly disarmed by the situation. The lack of control, the vulnerability: it was too much for her, it somehow felt too _familiar. _She felt the ache in her chest return with surprising strength, threatening to render her powerless. This realization made something snap inside her, and she decided in an instant that enough was enough.

With startling dexterity, Anne grabbed the younger woman by the arms and whirled them around, switching their positions. Anne was suddenly pressing Sophie into the wall of books and trapping her body firmly with her own. Sophie let out a small yelp and turned her face upwards to meet Anne’s burning gaze, her breath coming in short gasps. Anne gripped her arms a little too tightly, while bringing her mouth down to hover over her ear, lips parted and hot breath ghosting across the younger woman’s neck.

“Is this what you wanted, Miss Ferrall?” She all but growled into her ear. Sophie closed her eyes, overcome by the feeling of Anne overpowering her, having her way with her. 

“_Is it?” _Anne bit out, teeth scraping against the shell of her ear as she pressed Sophie harder against the wall of books. “_Answer me!”_

“Yes!” Sophie choked out, fluttering her eyes barely open as she leaned her head back against the thick leather of the books behind her.

Spurred on, Anne moved her hands down along her arms, stopping at her wrists and grasping them firmly. She brought them up slowly, trapping them against the books while she pressed the length of her body fully against the younger woman. 

A delicious little moan made its way out of Sophie’s lips and Anne felt it sink itself deep into her consciousness, searing into her brain, until she could think of nothing else but taking this woman up against the bookshelf, fully clothed, in the middle of a dinner party.

Breathing hard, she brought her face back to look at Sophie, but the woman had her head tilted up, eyes closed, mouth open in pleasure. She let go of one of Sophie’s wrists and brought her hand up to grasp her chin roughly, making her look straight into her eyes. Her nerves were frayed from the monumental effort it had taken to maintain her discipline around Sophie, and now, she let the temptation take over her.

She felt the girl reach out to grab the fabric of her sleeve, pulling her closer, fist trembling, knuckles white. The poor thing- she was falling apart from the anticipation of feeling Anne’s lips on her own, their faces now only inches apart. Sensing her desperation, Anne used the hand grasping her chin to turn her face firmly to the side, revealing the exquisite white skin of her long neck, tendons stretched in tension from the position. She brought her mouth down to indulge in the exposed flesh, lips curling up into smirk as she laid light kisses down her neck, stopping at the curve of her shoulders and breathing in her delicious scent. Sophie was panting hard, her legs trembling under her dress as Anne pressed roughly into her with her hips, feeling the delightful soft curves of the younger woman as she moved against her. 

“Are you trouble, Miss Ferrall?” Anne breathed against her skin.

Sophie gasped as she felt Anne lick a line up her neck back to her ear. She tried to respond with words, but instead, she heard herself let out another low moan. Anne brought their faces back together, hand still gripping her jaw, holding her back so that their lips were just a hair’s breadth away. They were so close now, their mouths open and panting into one another.

“Because you know how I feel about trouble.” Anne breathed into the other woman’s mouth, her words barely a whisper.

Just as Anne was about to lean in to finally give the girl what she wanted, the loud sound of laughter from the other room broke through their haze. Anne froze, and she felt Sophie go rigid against her.

And then Anne was pulling away from Sophie, almost like her touch burned. She stumbled a few steps backwards, smoothing down her gown. Sophie slumped backwards into the bookshelf, chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

Their eyes met, a curious mixture of feelings swirling in the space between them. Anne appraised Sophie’s deflated form, her gown wrinkled from where it had bunched up between their bodies, wisps of hair escaped from her elaborate bun, and red cheeks flushed with arousal. She probably looked just as flustered from their encounter judging by the way her skin seemed to burn against the cool air. Even now, with the weight of propriety settling in firmly between them, she felt herself throb with desire for the young woman before her. Sophie looked shaken from the intensity of the situation, but the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips told Anne that she felt the same way. 

She couldn’t believe what had almost happened—what _had _happened. 

Anne felt a chuckle rise from her chest at the inevitability of the moment. She certainly _was _in trouble now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! These chapters are getting longer and longer, and I have so many ideas of where I could take this. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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